When They Think You Betrayed Them
by Notaveryaffablerabbit
Summary: It's 15 years since Harry escaped from prison. When Ron and Hermione go on holiday with their children the help of a gruff farmer might be more than a stranger's kindness.
1. A Dark Night And A Pool Of Blood

**AN:** Just a little note to bring you up to speed, the story's pretty much DH compliant. There are a few changes nearer to the end, but you'll find out about those later in the plot. Oh, obviously the epilogue's been scrapped.

Also, this story is dedicated to Echoing Noise, not only replied to my review of her story A Mirror's Reflection (go check it out, it's good) but then went and read this fic and reviewed it, which I thought was lovely, and also inspired me to continue with it too.

**Chapter 1 – A Dark Night And A Pool Of Blood**

It was a little past midnight on some of the oldest hills in England. The sky was an inky black. No moon or stars shone. On top of one of the many tors stood a man. His hair dark as the night itself whipped round his face in the turbulent winds. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were as cold and hard as green ice.

John Parks was just as gruff and antisocial as his father, Ted Parks, had been. Ted Parks was the old farmer of Blacktor Farm. He ran nearly everything himself, making his living through selling the produce of his sheep and cattle. Nobody had even known he had a son until the lad had turned up sometime in February thirteen years previous. Apparently, the local village gossips said, he'd divorced his wife about thirty years ago and she'd taken the son with her. The young mister Parks had taken over running the farm eleven years ago, when the old mister Parks died. The young mister Parks didn't come to the village much, supplies had to be bought in the nearest town, except for the odd pint or item from the village shop. Violent sort too. Whenever, he was in the village you could count on there being something wrong with him; cuts, bruises, broken bones. Never seemed to get any help, but by the next time he was seen whatever injury he had would be gone to be replaced by another.

There were odd things that went on at that farm too. Maybe a year after John Parks arrived, strange things would happen there. The wind would blow mighty strong for a well-sheltered area like that and the rocks _moved_ on a near weekly basis. Blacktor Farm had some black magic on it, one the villagers didn't like.

John Parks knew what the villagers thought of him. He didn't care much for them or their opinions; they were the constantly snooping neighbours who reminded him of unpleasant times. Still, little as they mattered, they were a factor in why he was here. A single jot on a long list of points that drove him to do this again and again, looking for release. This would be the nine hundred and seventy sixth time in 11 years, not that anyone was counting. It hadn't worked before and it wasn't likely to work now. But something drove him to keep trying. He jumped.

{O~O}

A man and woman tramped across the moor. They wore classic hiker uniform – knee-length shorts, large backpacks, hats and walking sticks. Their two children – one boy one girl - trailed behind, annoyed at being dragged away from their computers and brooms for _two weeks_.

Daniel was youngest, he would begin his second year at Hogwarts after the holidays. He had his father's red wavy hair and his mother's intellect, but fortunately he was more streetwise then she was at his age. His scruffy clothing was damp with sweat from his exertations in the hot sun. The humidity caused by last night's rain didn't help either.

His sister Rose was two years older and would begin her fourth year at Hogwarts. She looked mainly like her mother, with calmer, Weasley red hair and her father's freckles. Professor Weasley taught Arithmancy, Rose's most hated subject. It was boring and far too much effort, much like this walk in fact. Rolling hills stretched out to the horizon, each one covered in dull grey grass and dull grey rocks and the occasional short grey tree.

Professor Hermione and Auror Ron Weasley had been happily married for fifteen years. Their children knew little of their school lives, except they became friends in first year, started going out in sixth and married a year after graduation. They'd never said much about their school days, but their children had never asked much. They never said much about the war either, and that they had asked about, only that their father had got his job and a long scar running from his chin to his hip due to the work he did during the war.

They reached a particularly large mound of granite and decided to stop for lunch at the top. Unsheltered by rock and hills, the wind was remarkably strong. The gale swept through them like an eagle in pursuit of dinner, blowing hair into sandwich-filled mouths and pushing rucksacks aside.

Dan sat at the edge of the rock, away from the rest of his family. His legs dangled over the edge, inches from a small ledge that would prevent him from slipping off the mound. With his tired feet able to rest and stomach steadily being filled with ham sandwich, the view was really quite nice. A forest ran down a valley, the leaves a vibrant green. Patches of blue bells intermingled with haggard looking sheep. A small cottage surrounded by a rough stone wall clung to the hill side. A kind of harsh beauty, wasn't that what they called it? He slid off his perch onto the ledge, in order to climb back to his parents, but the predatory wind decided to strike again.

A blast of cold wind blew at the exact moment that neither feet nor bottom supported his weight, with a precision that could only be cruel fate or murderous intent. Blown off track, the boy stumbled and fell over the edge of the ledge. Bracken broke his fall, but only enough to prevent major head damage, and he rolled into a pool of festering blood.

All this happened over the course of three seconds, leaving Dan little time even to gasp before he was knocked unconscious. A dull thunk in the middle of blustery moor tends to go unnoticed, as do children when parents are enjoying a view or little brothers, as long as they aren't being annoying. So, for the next five minutes of relaxation Dan's body lay three metres below his parents' feet until Mr Weasley went to pick up a stray crisp and saw his son's battered body lying on the grass surrounded by dark liquid. It was the type of thing he'd had to cope with during the war, and occasionally his job. A mostly dormant part of his brain switched on as fear and adrenaline shot through his body.

"DAN! Dan can you hear me?"

No response.

"What? What's ha- Oh my God! DAN!"

The two parents scrambled down the rocks, as their viewpoint was taken up by Rose, who then followed them down the tor. They rushed to the child.

"DAN! Dan, can you hear me? Wake up! Dan!"

She checked his pulse, it was still present. He was breathing shallowly, but there was far too much blood, it was partly congealed and somewhere in Hermione's brain she recognized it couldn't be his, but that much blood near any woman's injured son will often erase all logical thought.

"Hermione, he's unconscious. We need to get him to St. Mungo's."

"How? There's no Floo and we can hardly apparate him!"

"We'll take him to a muggle hospital. They'll have an access point or at least be able to help him."

"Rose, there's a cottage not too far away. Get help. Ask them to call for an ambulance."

"O.K." was the faint reply, and she ran off.

The cottage was about two hundred metres away, or if you use imperial, two hundred yards. She ran the first half, then had to slow down to as fast a walk as she could manage with a stitch. She came out of fields of prickly gorse on to a dirt track with the stone wall of the cottage not far away. Breath regained, she jogged over to the wooden gate and let herself in. She hammered at the door, panting, 'til a well tanned man came round from the back of the house. He had dark hair and tough, tanned skin marked red by the wind. He wore scruffy clothes patched with mud and worn out black boots. He was short and lean, almost wiry, and his eyes were obscured by a long fringe and a deep-set scowl.

"An' wha' do you want?"

Chappie 1. For those who don't know, this story is being redone, so I may be vaguely satisfied with it and may even, dare I say it, get finished. If anyone can think of a better title, please tell me, as I can't think of one but am deeply dissatisfied with the current one.

Now, remember what I said about Echoing Noise being absolutely amazing and reading this travesty of a literary work and even asking for me to update? Well that was a pure and unselfless act, and by reviewing she put a little more love in the world. We all know that love makes the world go round, so therefore reviews make the world go round. Think you can guess what I'm getting at,

REVIEW!

Love NAVAR


	2. A Stranger and A Creature

AN: Happy New Year! It's now 11:00 PM GMT, I have 1 hour in which to complete this chapter. This is my present to you, the second chapter which should have been up six bloody months ago. I won't make excuses; but I was run over by a herd of buffalo AND kidnapped by an alien with a fondness for jelly babies AND transported back in time by a green fairy to save the world (only to find out that I needed two friends to help, so they all died) AND flew around the world in a dirigible with a mysterious man who's quite possibly over 5000 years old was the one who sank Atlantis for their intolerances, but more likely a sixteen year old boy who somehow manages to get in to very odd circumstances.

That aside, sorry for no updates, and many thanks to Interruption, Zappy and Echoing Noise (to whom this story is dedicated) for giving me the kicks up the arse I needed and many thanks to everyone else who reviewed, favourited or put this story on alert.

I've got exams through January, so don't expect another update then. End of February/ beginning of March things will have calmed down after starting new modules, so I hope to get a new chapter up near then.

WARNING: blood, gore and Meerschweinschens know what else in this chapter

Chapter Two – A Creature and A Stranger

"_Rose, there's a cottage not too far away. Get help. Ask them to call for an ambulance."..._

_... A well tanned man came round from the back of the house. He had dark hair and tough, tanned skin marked red by the wind..._

_..."An' wha' do you want?"_

Rose was a confident person. Her parents were assertive people, and they'd never taught her to be cowed by other people, nor had anyone else given her reason to. But this man did made her nervous. Maybe it was his rough appearance, maybe it was his rough demeanour, or more likely a combination of these two mixed with mild delayed shock. Nevertheless, for about five seconds she forgot the reason of her being there in place of nerves.

"Well wha' you want?"

She regained most of her wits.

"I, uh, my brother's injured. Could I use your phone?"

"'S broken. Nearest phone is a good half an hour away. How bad is he?"

"He fell off the rock... There was a lot of blood." She shuddered. It wasn't a pleasant image.

"I'd best go see what I can do, then you can go to the village. It isn't too hard to find. Your parents with you?" he asked as he walked over to her and opened the front door. It was a thick, uneven thing that fit in perfectly with the small, granite cottage.

"Yes. Sir." She added after a moment's pause.

"Come in then. Mind the step."

Two small steps that Rose wouldn't have really noticed if she hadn't been warned led to a small living room. The stranger seemed to have gone through an archway that led into the hall. Not wanting to intrude, Rose stayed in the living room.

Light streamed through a window onto the back of a long sofa. The cushions were depressed in certain places that made it look like someone had been sleeping there not long before, maybe a dog by the number of black hairs covering it. There was a mantelpiece on the wall to Rose's right and a few trinkets and photos lay there. Next to it was a bookcase made of a heavy redish wood which contained a few thick books on farming, moor walks and a few novels. Leather bound tomes filled the remaining gap between bookcase and ceiling, though there was no reason why they couldn't go on the shelves. A high-backed armchair was slanted towards the fire, but was still forwards-facing enough not to block out anyone in the sofa. All the furnishings were dull reds and browns, the exception being cream walls and a few dark green cushions. A small table caught Rose's eye, it held something that might have once been a phone but was now a burnt glob of plastic and circuitry.

"It was a, uh, fire. Old machine decided to pack it in. Your brother'll be ok, the ground round that rock is unusually soft, as well there being a lot of bracken. There's been a lot of... sheep attacks lately. He's probably just landed in left over blood."

She put the phone down and realised the man was scrutinizing her; like he was trying to decide in she was a threat or not. He carried a green first aid kit in one hand and a small towel in the other.

"Even so, that rock's a long fall, mightuh broken something. Your parents know first aid?"

"I think so..." She knew they'd fought in the war, so they probably knew some kind of first aid.

"Good. I've known people to survive worse than that rock, an' they didn't get help for a few hours. He'll be ok."

He walked out the door and she followed, shutting the door behind her. She began to walk up the garden path, but there was no gate at the end of it. Instead it had relocated itself in between two bushes. The man lumbered to the gate with a total lack of interest that his gate had decided to boycott the path. He opened it and held it open for her once he was through. Rose hastened towards him.

(*_*)

Ten minutes is a long time. A lot can happen in ten minutes. Especially in an emergency. It doesn't take long for blood to attract scavengers, especially if they smell distressed prey near it too. With the moor's diurnal predators either living far from this tor or unwilling to eat any meat but fresh, it fell to a lone beast to sniff out what seemed to be an easy kill. It was human, and it had been warned against harming humans, but it was very hungry and there was so much blood. The human wouldn't live long, so there would be no hunts for enormous, vicious, dog-like creatures, would there?

The creature crept closer to its prey, watching from behind a gorse bush. Its large size and poorly formed legs gave it no aptitude for stealth, it was a skill which had taken a long time to learn and its lack of proficiency at it left it starving on many a night. Yellow eyes observed the scene. Two adults crouched next to a injured child. Other humans. They would be a problem. The child was swathed in blood and the blood was recognizable as The Alpha. The Alpha's blood would kill that child; it was poison to anything, except the creature. It could knock out the other humans with its breath then eat its fill.

A large, dark form leaping towards them was all that Hermione and Ron Weasley saw before they were rendered unconscious. The beast lapped up the blood, revelling in its salty taste. Sure, it could be better; it was cold, slightly congealed and had the kid's taste mixed in with it, giving it an odd taste, but it was _food_, something it hadn't had for a few days now. Thus, it began to gorge upon the twelve year-old's thigh.

This was the site that greeted Rose and her companion as they reached the hill. A monster stood there, eating her brother's flesh. It was a grotesque being with thick, sinewy legs, fangs that weren't designed for the thing's skull size that made the jaw impossible to close and large claws that looked like they belonged on industrial cutting machines. Its height, a full four feet, capped off the intimidating image. Rose felt her lungs tighten in panic, wanting to scream but not able to. The creature looked up, yellow, feline eyes adding to the Frankenstein-like image of the creature, staring at Rose like she was the next course, then seemed to shrink back, hunger replaced by fear.

The man went mental. He roared in fury and charged at the creature, shouting how he would rip its hide out and smash its skull in for daring to do something like this. The beast yelped and fled in terror, running like a dog about to be beaten.

(O_O)

Barely sparing a glance for the unconscious couple, the man knelt at the boy's side and began feeling for broken bones. Rose stared on, like it was a fake battle scene in a movie. The images were realistic, but false. The blood was too bright, there was too much of it and people who fainted didn't look like that. No, this wasn't real.

Seemingly satisfied that there were no broken bones, the man turned the boy so his leg was out of the pool -which really was too big by the way- and began to cut away the trouser leg to assess the damage. With the wounds now plain to see, he pressed the towel to them to prevent blood flow.

"Kid, I need you to wake your parents."

The words didn't register in Rose's brain.

"KID!"

She jumped, startled.

"What?"

"Wake your parents. They shouldn't be hurt and I could do with their help."

Rose went over to her mother and started to shake her shoulders.

"Dad. Dad wake up. Dan's hurt and this man needs your help."

"Slam down hard on his chest. He'll have to breath out which'll get rid of any sleeping gas. It's how that thing catches prey."

She does as he says without any sound. Monsters with dangerous breath reminds her of something… but her mind has turned to a hazy fog. Following instructions requires little thought. Her father gasps out under impact, then breathes back in. When her father has come to, she gives him a hand up before moving to her mother.

"What… Daniel!" He rushes over to her son. There's a man crouched beside him, holding a mostly red towel to his right leg.

"He's lost a few bits of his leg. Thing that got him's teeth were too long to let it do much damage, but it can't really be stitched back up. Right now we need to block each gash with a rolled up bandage then wrap more bandages around the area to keep them in place. I need you to hold down the rolls firmly and keep hold of one end of the wrap whilst I tie it. Got it?"

A small part of Ron Weasley's brain, a bit unused since the war ended 15 years ago, woke up and took charge.

"Right."

That same small area of the brain, also unused for 15 years, activated in Hermione Weasley as she saw her husband and a man tending to her son. They could probably handle him for the moment, professional care was needed.

"Have you called an ambulance?"

"No phone. Nearest is the village. Not much a hospital can do. That creature is poisonous and they don't have the antidote."

"He's got chunks _missing _from his leg!"

"That poison will kill him in 4 days and no hospital will give him an unknown cure. There's a retired doctor in the village. Ask at the pub for Dr Ferguson. He can oversee treatment if you wish."

"Fine." With a grimace she set off at a jog, down the slope to the small moorland village. She couldn't jog all the way, but over the past 22 years she had learnt that she was a witch and once out of sight apparated just outside of the village and walked towards the pub.

(_)

Back by the tor, Ron and the man had finished bandaging Dan. Carefully, they moved the rest of his body out of the bloody mess and on to clear ground. When finished, the men took a look at each other. Fear grew as the black haired man realised that 15 years of hiding may just have gone to waste. Ronald Weasley, his old friend, one of the few people in the world who would know who he was past the scar, glasses and hair. Ronald Weasley, the one who had, yes the children confirmed it, married Hermione, his other old friend, the one who would recognize him the second she saw his face. It was Ron bloody Weasley, the one who's brother he'd killed.

Quick explanation: I changed the Weasley's son's name because I WILL NOT write any kind of vaguely likable character under the age of 30 with the name Hugo. Sorry, but it's a name you grow into. If you do know a nice person under 30 who fits the name Hugo, please tell me what they're like, I'd be curious to know.

If you have anything you'd like to see in this story, just tell me! It'll probably make it in!

I think this'll last about 4 to 5 chapters, there are 2 possible endings, so should I go for the peaceful ending or the difficult ending? You decide!

R&R (Rest and Recooperate – it is the holidays!)

Love NAVAR


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